masta_is_a_fgtfandomcom-20200215-history
Issue 7 proto
Jim felt both proud and uneasy as he sat back into Lawson's chair. It had been like a forbidden fruit for years - Lawson would never let anyone else use it - and now it was his. That wasn't to say, however, that he found himself comfortable in the chair. On the contrary, it triggered some rather worrying thoughts inside him. He didn't want to end up like Lawson. Butch was the first of the new arrivals to sit, dumping himself with a loud sigh on the far more uncomfortable seat on the opposite side of the desk. Jim couldn't deny that Butch's obvious discomfort made him feel a tad more comfortable; especially after the somewhat comical act they'd put on out there. Viktor, the great mass of Russian muscle who Lilly had told him about so many times, stood by the door as if he were some sort of hobo bouncer; while the two policeman leant against the windowsill. Jim could see that the rougher looking of the two - Louis Moyer, Butch had called him - was clutching a small hip flask in his left hand. "Well then, let's get started" Jim began as he felt Claire place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. If Butch decided to dig up any of those old skeletons, she'd stick by him. "You want to know about that body out there, right?" "That'd be helpful, Jimbo" Butch replied, his voice neither jovial or bitter. It was obvious to Jim that this was his business face; similar to the one that he'd remembered so clearly from all those years ago. "Well, Anthony...Anthony Lawson, the old boss here, had always been a bit...highly strung. He'd been refusing to let people go out and get food, and whatever food we had left was...disappearing...at quite the astonishing rate..." "You killed him over food? What the he-" The tidier officer, Paul, tried to speak; but he was cut off mid-sentence. "Oi, let him finish!" Claire snapped, and sure enough, Paul stopped talking. "Well yes, there's a lot more to the story than that..." Jim continued, now feeling a little more confident. "Things were getting pretty tense, I heard rumours of the kids wanting to run off and leave this place, and I couldn't let 'em put themselves in danger like that. Just as things seemed to be at the breaking point, one of our careworkers went missing...Harriet, she was a lovely woman, and the only one to have seen her leave was Lawson. Can you tell where this is going yet?" "Y-yeah, sadly I can" Paul replied, in a voice that seemed to be almost apologetic. Jim liked this guy already, at least he knew when to listen. The same could not be said of Butch, who suddenly spouted: "So he killed your bit on the side, and you caved his head in? That's some Jeremy Kyle shit aint it..." Unlike Paul, Butch was clearly immune to Claire's death looks, and when she tried to speak up he just shushed her until she stopped. "Do continue, Jimbo, I like to hear a good yarn." "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted" Jim continued, relishing in the opportunity to embarrass his old acquaintance. "I confronted Lawson, and he pulled a gun on me. My gun. My father gave it to me, years ago, and that weapon's brought me nothing but tragedy ever since..." That was the last barrier, now he had Butch's full and undivided attention. The last time Jim had fired that gun...well, it hadn't been pretty; and Butch knew that all too well. "What next, then?" Paul asked, pushing the line of questioning forward like any good copper would. Jim seriously had to admire the young man's transparency; he certainly wasn't playing any of Butch's games, he was simply in it for the answers. "I tried to get the gun, but Lawson was a good deal stronger than an old fool like me. He had me down, he almost got me, so I forced his hand. Shot myself in the arm, and then the gunshot brought everyone running." He turned to Claire and smiled at her. "She got the bastard off of me...and then Lilly finished him off." "Lilly? My Lilly killed him?" asked Viktor, speaking for the first time and sounding utterly horrified. He immediately threw the door open and stormed out; not bothering to give Jim, Claire, the coppers or even Butch a moment's notice. "I think you pair should go meet the kids" Jim told Paul and Louis, desperate now to empty the room of any intruding ears. "Claire will introduce you." "Sounds like a plan" Paul smiled back; then turning to Claire with the same grin, caused her to smile in return. Jim could tell that Claire was eyeing up the young copper, but he had bigger things to worry about. Besides, Paul wouldn't exactly be a bad catch. After a few seconds of standing around awkwardly, Claire lead Paul out, with Louis staggering behind. The door clicked shut behind them. "What's the meaning of this, Grant?" Butch asked, now freely allowing the hatred in his soul to roam free. It flourished within him as he growled at Jim. "You can't tell the kids what happened back then...you can't tell Claire..." "Why not? You don't want them to know what dear old grandaddy Grant really is?" "These kids have suffered so much. They've lost their families, I can't let them lose me as well." "Oh don't be a twat Jim, I'm not gonna kill you...I'm nothing like you, old man." ----- "What the hell is he doing here Lance?" Anton asked, fidgeting anxiously as he perched on the end of the bed. "You said that none of this would come back to haunt us. You fucking promised me." "Yeah well I think the end of the world is a decent excuse there Ant" Lance replied, having been reminded of why Anton irritated him sometimes. The guy worried far too much. "That's alright for you to say, but what if the rest of them find out what happened? Mr G? Claire? Carson? Them copper blokes? How about that one who just came in with Lilly, the dude who looks like the bastard lovechild of Inspector Morse and Captain bloody Hook? How's he gonna react to being in a house with a bunch of...well..." "Murderers" Maxine added, finishing Anton's sentence for him. She had no patience for beating around the bush, a trait that Lance utterly adored in her, because sometimes he never felt like coming out and saying the things that she did. "No need to be so blunt, Max" Anton sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "What we did...it wasn't murder, it was justi-" "No Anton, don't be a ditherer." Maxine asserted; and despite the grim subject matter, Lance had to stop himself from laughing. This was his Max, back for the first time since this had all kicked off. "It was murder, premeditated and with just a smidgeon of brutality, but that doesn't make it wrong." "What we did was right..." Anton agreed. "But it wasn't murder, murder can never be ri-" "Oh yes it can be" Lance said, this time taking his turn to be the interruptor; while Maxine seemingly took her turn to feel proud of her lover. "Murder...torture...execution...they're the only words we can use to describe what we did. They're the only things that Sharp deser-" "Hey guys" came a voice from the door, making the trio stop in shock. It was Claire, and she sounded fairly content, so she obviously hadn't overheard. To say that Lance was relieved was an understatement, especially since Butch's two policeman friends were with her. The mod and the pisshead; or at least that was what they seemed to be. "This dashing young chap is Paul" she told them, giving the tidier and more handsome officer a cheeky grin; before patting their third wheel on the shoulder. "And the drunken lout here is Louis." "A pleasure" Louis slurred. "Now can someone get me a drink or three?" "Of course, follow me" Anton said coldly, giving Lance one last look of mistrust. It was clear what his eyes were saying. "This could be the death of us..." ---- Viktor barged into Lilly's room without as much as a knock. He couldn't help it, that girl worried him far too much. First she had a breakdown, and fair enough they'd left it to Brodmir; but after hearing that she'd killed that man...he couldn't have just left her to that old copper. She needed family. "Viks!" Lilly beamed as soon as he entered, and the worry in his heart and mind disappeared instantly. She was sat curled up in the window-seat, Brodmir standing next to her like a tower protecting a hidden princess, with a cloud of smoke surrounding them both. "You want a ciggie?" "I think I need one, my dear" he sighed, with just a hint of gratitude in his voice, and Lilly promptly jumped to her feet. Before Viktor could react, she'd launched herself at him and ended up with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. "Surprise Vicky!" she laughed; jamming a cigarette into the corner of his mouth before jumping down. In the corner, Brodmir started to chuckle at Lilly's antics; only to catch a little too much smoke and end up coughing and spluttering. "Easy there Brodmir, we don't need another death in the family" Viktor grinned at the old detective, who he'd grown to like over the past few weeks. "Family? Heh, good one. And I told you, Orlov, my name's bloody Terrence!" "Your Paul calls you Terrence, and Moyer calls you sir. Yet to your back they say Bloodhound. Butch says Terrence sometimes and Inspector at others...I figured Brodmir would be a...a good compromise." "Eh alright, I'll let you off, it's still better than bloody Bloodhound." "What's wrong with Bloodhound?" Lilly chirped in, zooming back over to Terrence like a puppy after a tennis ball. "You'd be joining the ranks of Scooby-Doo and that that dog outta Basil the Great Mouse Detective." "Scooby-Doo was a great dane, darlin'" Terrence chuckled. "Yeah well Sherlock Holmes wasn't a mouse named Basil; it's called creative licence, Bloodhound". "You've signed your own death sentence now Terrence" Viktor grinned. He couldn't help but smile at seeing the old Lilly back again. The breakdowns and the misery, they were Butch's Lilly. This, the laughter and the joy and the playful jokes, was his Lilly. His and Lexi's. "My Lil has never been one to let these things go, she can be a right little cyka when she wants to b-" "Oi you cheeky cunt!" Lilly interrupted, and once again Viktor burst out laughing. Trust his Lilly to come out with something so crude. "What on earth is a bloody cyka?" Terrence asked them both with a raised eyebrow, and Lilly joined Viktor in his hysterics. "Bastard just called me a bitch in Russian" she giggled. It was a giggle that Viktor remembered all too well, and one that he loved even more. It was half childish, half crazy and half inappropriate. That was his Lilly alright; all three halves of her. ----- Anton's nerves had soothed as soon as he took the first sip, but now, three drinks later, they were looser than Caitlin's handjobs. That was his only fault with her, her handjobs were too loose. Handjobs are meant to be a balance of teasing and good hard beating; but Caitlin had always been too much of a teaser. She also liked Maltesers. Anton knew the drink was making him think this way, but he really didn't give a shit. "This stuff alright for you brother?" he asked Louis, the copper reclined on Caitlin's bed with an open can of Strongbow in each hand. In response, Louis let out a mighty belch, and Anton burst into hysterics. Yeah, the guy's story was fucking sad, he'd learned all about it after the first two cans; but the bloke could sure hold his booze. "Alright mate, who's the best shag you ever had?" Anton asked him, even in this state being one for the questions. He needed to forget it all, and Louis was the best distraction. No thinking about Butch, or Lance, or Alexander Sharp...or even Caitlin's handjobs. "My wife..." Louis sighed, and then proceeded to drain both of his cans. "Don't suppose you've got anything stronger have you?" "Not my stash, my sister's, she's always been one for getting tipsy when no one's looking," "Ain't she the ginge like y-" the door flew open, and Caitlin walked in. Anton couldn't help but to laugh as her jaw dropped. The Queen of Loose Handjobs and Teasing Maltesers was gobsmacked. "Anton..." she growled. "What the fuck...is this? And what...is that?" "Oh yeah, this is Louis, my new drinking buddy. Louis, this is my sister Caitlin. On topic, also the best shag I've ever had." "Bonjour madame, merci for the booze" Louis slurred with a grin, and then his face straightened out. "Wait what...what did you just say? You shagged...your sister?" The question sobered Anton up as fast as was humanly possible, though the daggers in Caitlin's eyes helped too. Why the hell did he tell Louis that? Why? What the hell was he doing here anyway, telling a drunken rozzer that he shags hIs sister? "Mr...uh..." Caitlin started, but soon hit a standstill. "Moyer" Louis added, seeming almost too helpful for someone in his present situation. "Mr Moyer" Caitlin began again, this time knowing the right name to be able to continue. "We can really explain thi- oh fuck it, we can't explain it...just please don't tell anyone?" "I see no reason to spread gossip. We both have something to gain out of this, after all..." Louis's eyes, no longer those of a hopeless drunkard but rather those of a desperate addict, turned to the remainder of Caitlin's alcohol. "I shalln't tell anyone about your little arrangement, kiddies. But I'll need you to keep my new supply of booze hidden from the Bloodhound. That old git can sniff out anything." "Your new supply?" Anton asked, his semi-drunken mind still not fully understanding the situation. It only hit him when Louis started to speak again. "Yeah" Louis said, offering the siblings his hand. "Your beer for my secrecy...fair trade?" The three shook hands, and Anton couldn't help believing that this was the beginning of the end.